


Sock it to Me

by ForASecondThereWedWon



Series: Bughead Stories [17]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: And then all hope of doing research is abandoned, Betty humors him, F/M, First Time, Humor, Jughead takes the Nancy Drew thing too far, Romance, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 18:35:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13932888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForASecondThereWedWon/pseuds/ForASecondThereWedWon
Summary: Originally posted on Fanfiction.net. Nobody died at the town hall meeting in S2E4, but Betty and Jughead still don't know what the Black Hood will do next. Convinced that Nancy Drew might still be the key, Jughead talks Betty into a little bit of dress-up to channel her beloved childhood heroine. But is that really going to solve anything, or just be another distraction? Rated E for a sleuthing date that gets solid results.





	Sock it to Me

“Aha!” Jughead withdrew his hand from Betty’s sock drawer clutching a woven hotdog-shaped lump. “Why have you been hiding these from me?” He turned on Betty and she snatched the object out of his hand.

“They’re just socks, Jug!” She gave him her scrunched brows, wide eyes, ‘what is wrong with you’ look.

“Nah. Yesterday they were socks, hell, ten seconds ago they were socks, but now they’re the key!” he enthused, gesturing shaking hands towards her. She knew it was a mistake that he’d insisted on coffee before their sleuthing date.

“The key to determining the time and place of the Black Hood’s next target,” she said flatly, finishing her boyfriend’s thought without his fervour.

“You just don’t see it yet, Betty,” he argued, tilting his hat-covered head condescendingly. “This is actually a very logical plan. We’re getting in his head now.” Jughead grabbed Betty by the shoulders, but she still looked up at him sceptically.

“Maybe the Nancy Drew clue was just a one-time thing…” she suggested, but he was already shaking his head adamantly.

“I don’t think so. Why would he change the game right when he’s sure you’ve caught on? You’re not going to like this interpretation, but I think he sees you as a kind of ally, Betty. You’re speaking the same language now.”

“…Which he knows the whole town is also going to understand, since my mom’s been publishing everything in the _Register_.”

“Yeah, but he knew that before.” Jughead was slowly pacing now and shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto Betty’s perfectly made bed. “There’d be no point to him changing the code because, again logically, you’d just keep telling your mom when you figured it out.”

“Unless I quit telling her anything,” Betty countered. “He doesn’t know what kind of relationship I have with my mother.”

“Betty,” Jughead replied heavily, halting in front of her, “he knew your most-read childhood book. Your history of butting heads with your mother would be much easier to unearth.”

Betty sank back onto her mattress, hands on her knees (balled socks in one), and groaned.

“This is insane, Jug. _Insane_.”

“Come on, babe. Until the Black Hood starts dropping a few more hints in his pervy late-night phone calls, we need to start thinking outside the box. Let Nancy Drew be your life raft.”

Betty rolled her eyes and mumbled: “Mixed metaphor.” She unfolded the knee-highs Jughead had plucked from the brimming purgatory of her sock drawer.

“Are we even sure Nancy ever wore knee-highs?” she asked doubtfully. “I feel like that might have been more of a Velma from _Scooby-Doo_ thing.”

“Uh, you’re the expert here,” Jughead replied, as if it were an accepted fact that she would know.

“Lucky me,” she mumbled, wiggling her foot into a sock and yanking it up over the leg of her jeans.

“Woah!” Jughead shouted. Betty looked up in alarm. “Woah, woah, woah! You’re not even trying! I want to see some sock-to-skin contact here, Betts.”

She groaned again.

“They’re winter socks, Juggy. They itch.”

“I bet Nancy never complained.”

“You…” she trailed off, unable to compose an insult. Jughead laughed and she peeled her sock off and threw it at his face. Unfortunately, he caught it. “I’m going to get you back for this.”

“Easy with the threating language, Betty. We’re talking about a serial killer here. You’re giving me the creeps.” He held his hands up defensively, but he was grinning down at her.

“Turn around.”

Jughead’s eyes widened.

“Jesus Christ, Betty, why? Is there somebody behind me?”

She sighed.

“No, but I’m trying to do this your way, so I need you to avert your eyes or something while I change out of my jeans.” Betty raised a hand and made a shooing motion. Jughead obeyed, putting his back to her and hanging his head. She was willing to bet he’d closed his eyes as well. He was such a good guy.

“I want it known for the record that this was the method of channeling Nancy Drew that I was _least_ in favour of.”

“Well her other trademarks are going into places alone―”

“Which you vetoed―”

“For obvious safety reasons. Also, using light sources like torches and candles in candleholders―”

“ _Which you vetoed_ ―” Betty repeated, annoyed.

“Hey, I’m not calling you clumsy, but I didn’t want to take any chances with an open flame.”

Betty rolled her eyes and pulled her jeans off, picking up a mid-thigh-length skirt left out from her outfit decision making before school that morning. Her bottoms changed, she tugged on the first sock, then reached for the other, clasped in both of Jughead’s hands, which he held behind his back. When he felt her fingers on his palm, he turned. His whistle was sharp and made her cheeks flush.

“Talk about an open flame,” he whispered, his gaze trailing down her legs―one covered, one not. Betty twisted the sock in her hand.

“Let’s um… get to work.” She pulled the Black Hood’s letter, the cypher, and their notes off the top of her dresser. “See if this connection to a children’s literary character is turned on.”

“I don’t know about Nancy,” said Jughead softly, “but _I’m_ sure turned on.”

Betty twisted back to face him, sure he was just making another joke, but his gaze was still south of her waist. He was looking at the space of bare leg between the bottom of her skirt and the top of her socks with such concentration, he might’ve been measuring it to see which IKEA end table would perfectly fit within those boundaries.

“Very funny, Jughead,” she said, a little self-consciously.

She sat back on her bed, crossing her legs and staring hard at the papers in her hands. If she didn’t address the lingering tension, it would just go away, as it had the other times they’d approached and retreated from a high level of intimacy. There was just too much going on. Conflicting timetables, the unforeseen threat of Toni, and now the sudden entrance of a hooded murderer interrupting the regularly scheduled programming of their teenage drama. The first two would’ve been more than enough for Betty to contend with, and that was merely to find time to spend with her boyfriend. Being in the same room instead of infrequently texting. Holding hands instead of cradling phones to their ears, trying to drown out the background noise of their increasingly separate lives in order to even get past “What are you up to?” and “How was your day?” The further away in time they got from the night the Serpents had disrupted their activities (which Betty _still_ felt had been leading to sex), the more recreating a private moment like that felt closer to impossible than unlikely.

There was a little _zip_ as Jughead drew her blinds shut. Betty looked up, startled.

“For all we know, he has eyes on your house,” he offered in explanation, shrugging.

The edges of the sheets crumpled in her hands as she fell back to horizontal.

“Great,” Betty moaned, closing her eyes.

She felt the pages being eased from her grip and the slump of the mattress as Jughead sat down next to her. Betty sighed and rolled towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her forehead to his denim-covered hip. She drew her legs up, bending her knees to cover her butt with her feet.

“Jug,” she mumbled against him.

“Hmm?” There was the rustle of paper.

“You still have my sock.”

It landed suddenly on her neck and Betty flinched, opening her eyes. She picked the sock off of herself, but didn’t put it on, depositing it over the side of the bed.

“Do you really think he’s watching the house?” she asked quietly, glancing up at Jughead.

He stopped looking at the pages and set them on the bed on his other side. Then, he laid back as well, wrapping an arm over Betty and pulling hers over his chest. It was a sudden, powerful reminder of them waking up together. Betty had been wanting to feel elated about that recent occurrence, but it had seemed so accidental after the fact that she never felt like dwelling on it. Had they slept that way simply out of exhaustion and convenience? Were they a pair of senior citizens? Would their relationship ever last that long if they couldn’t push past the so-far impermeable barrier of PG? Betty shifted her head onto Jughead’s chest, listening to the primordial pump of his heart.

“We know the Black Hood’s been here,” he began, “because he left that first envelope for your mother. Watching the house though? No, I think that would be too risky. I mean, nobody knows exactly what he looks like, but everybody’s heard Archie go on and on about those green eyes by now, so the psycho has at least _one_ clear identifier.” Jughead let out a deep breath. “Personally, I wouldn’t be hanging around anywhere near Archie’s place if I were the Black Hood. We both know young Robert Redford’s lost the plot a little lately.”

“So you don’t think Archie’s presence might draw the Hood in?” Betty asked, trailing her fingers across Jughead’s t-shirt contemplatively.

“No. If anything, I think Archie’s presence is protecting you. I wish I could do that,” he finished faintly.

Betty’s heart leapt in her chest.

“You _do_ do that,” she insisted, propping herself up on one elbow to look down at him. “You helped me figure out the cypher.”

“That was pure greediness, Betts. With puzzles and secret codes, I’m like a kid in a Dan Brown-themed candy store.”

“You’re here with me now,” she offered, trying again. “That counts.”

Jughead shrugged, reaching up to twist the elastic out of her hair, but he was starting to look convinced.

“You shut the blinds in case he comes around and tries to stare up at the window. That was for my sake,” Betty insisted, poking Jughead’s chest and smiling.

“But I’m a selfish creature, Betty. It was mostly for mine.” His fingers dug deep into her hair, making her head tingle.

“Oh yeah?” she whispered, letting him guide her face down.

“Mhmm,” Jughead confirmed, his dark blue-green eyes making a final sweep of her face before closing, when he pressed his lips to hers.

She felt his other hand creep up the back of her neck, giving her goosebumps. Pressing her fingers a little more firmly into his chest, Betty started to get curious. She kissed him harder, sensing her whole body wanting to strain into the motion. Getting a grip in her hair, Jughead opened his mouth wider under hers and angled her head to intensify the kiss. Betty took a deep breath, touching her tongue to Jughead’s as the smell of him filled her nose, making her hungry in a way a burger at Pop’s couldn’t help with. He responded eagerly, pulling her in by the tongue, then sliding his hand from her neck down her back to press her closer. Betty was trying to comply, shuffling her limbs so that her body wasn’t so contorted, when her bent knee grazed the front of Jughead’s thigh. He made a sort of choking grunt and released her hair, gripping the back of her head instead as he kissed her with ardour. His other hand slipped down her back before running over to her hip, along her leg, and catching the back of her knee. Curling his finger around to get a good hold, Jughead twitched her knee forward suggestively. His hand was comfortably warm on her bare skin, but she shivered all the same.

Jughead twitched her knee again and their kiss began to slow like thickening cement, so that she was aware of every nudge of his chin, every poke his straight nose gave her cheek. She felt his fingers twirling more sensually through her hair and the drag of her pale sweater across her chest every time she pressed forward to kiss him. She thought about the fact that neither of them needed to be anywhere else right then, and that both of her parents would be occupied―maybe for hours―at another town hall meeting that her mother had pushed for after the disruption of the last one. Betty let her bent leg be towed across until her thigh was on top of Jughead’s, then in his lap, then she gave in and got on hands and knees to fully move her leg to the far side of his hips. With her legs wide to straddle him, Betty was extra-conscious of the length of her skirt which was, compared to others she owned, not very substantial. Jughead was conscious of it too, smoothing out the fingers of the hand that had been grasping her knee until they stretched up the back of her thigh…

Betty shuddered and broke the kiss, raising up on her hands to stare down uncertainly at Jughead. He scooped her hair to one side, keeping it out of her face, and Betty studied him. His hat had slid back on his head, his eyes were shiny and dangerous in the soft light of her lamp, and the reddened lips of his wide mouth were still parted from kissing her. He’d kissed her before, lots of times, but not like _that_. And he’d looked at her after kissing her before, but not like he was now. Normally there was a kind of gentle satisfaction in his face, but now his expression seemed to be trying to tell Betty that he wasn’t done, just beginning.

“If you’re going to say we should get back to Nancy Drew-ing, then you’re right.” His hand travelled a little higher up her thigh. “I just really don’t want to.” Jughead’s gaze moved down to her lips, which Betty bit before replying.

“I thought solving mysteries was your favourite pastime,” said Betty, pushing Jughead’s hat the rest of the way off and edging her fingers around his face, playing with his black hair.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” he said, and she felt the hem of her skirt lift slightly as his fingers slipped underneath. Her heart was pounding.

“ _And?_ ”

“Well…” Jughead trailed off. Betty could tell he had begun to distract himself as well. She leaned down, kissing his neck lightly. He turned his head to press his cheek to her hair. “I think it would be rash to pick a favourite without trying out a few more.”

“Any ideas?”

“Oh, I always have ideas,” he assured her with a smirk.

Next thing she knew, Jughead was up on his elbows, pulling himself backwards so his legs weren’t hanging off the side of her bed. Betty could have climbed off of him to let him readjust without obstruction, except the look in his eyes stopped her. Also, the bulge in his jeans, which she only saw now, but had been hovering over obliviously since sometime after straddling him. So, for the first time in ages, Betty acted out of desire instead of fear or desperation. She crawled after Jughead, watching his smile spread across his face as he watched her, still on his elbows. At his hips, Betty drew her knees in against him and sat. In this position, her skirt was of no use to her at all, her underwear alone separating her from his jeans.

They stared at each other for a long moment, then Betty looked down, sliding her hand under the bottom of Jughead’s t-shirt. In response, both of his hands came up the front of her thighs. She smiled, tilting forward to kiss him while her fingers discovered his abdominal muscles. Jughead repositioned one hand on her lower back, pressing her against him and letting his other hand slink straight up her skirt. Betty felt the negligible pressure of her underwear’s elastic disappear when Jughead burrowed his fingers under the fabric to feel the continuous skin of her uncovered hip. Drawing out of the kiss, her breathing shaky, Betty pressed down, rubbing across his erection. She realized she’d definitely been getting wet and felt a complementary, almost painfully present contraction of the muscles most invested in the situation. Jughead forced his hand completely through the leg of her panties and reached around to grab Betty’s naked backside. He didn’t push her, but when Betty rocked across him a second time, she could feel Jughead’s fingers tense on her ass.

He laid back, taking her with him, then leaned into Betty, rolling her onto her back while his weight settled over her. Instinctively, she bent her knees to make way for Jughead’s hips. One of her feet landed on the loose sheets of paper they were supposed to be focusing on and she rebelliously kicked them away to flutter onto the floor. With a look Betty wanted to call giddy―but wouldn’t do so aloud for fear of injuring his reputation―Jughead wedged a hand behind her back, drawing her sweater up to the fastening of her bra, then hooking his fingers beneath it. It was the second time he’d maneuvered his hands between her lingerie and her skin and Betty didn’t need a cypher to crack this code: he obviously wanted to feel more of her bare skin against his.

She’d been teasing him, stroking her fingers (over Jughead’s t-shirt) down his chest towards his hips until she felt the muscles of his abdomen jump, but now, with one of his hands tracing the ridges of her vertebrae and the other headed back up her thigh, things were getting serious. Things were getting hot and heavy, like myriad ‘80s rock songs had promised her they would. As he fingered the lacy hem of her underwear, Betty jolted.

“Tops first?” she suggested, figuring the exposed upper half of Jughead’s body would be less intimidating to her than the lower half.

“Are we working down to the socks, or what?” Jughead grinned then kissed her, fiercely but briefly.

Betty touched her cheeks with both hands, fingertips, then the backs of her fingers, trying from the heat of her skin to gauge how brightly it had flushed.

“Maybe for you,” she replied shyly, “but I only have one sock.”

“Then let’s get that off first,” Jughead said, his hand withdrawing from her skirt to skim down to her knee, where the top of the sock reached to. “Good first step in case you get cold feet.” He yanked her sock down and Betty lifted her foot slightly so he could remove it.

“That is a _terrible_ joke, Juggy.”

But she stretched her neck up to kiss his cheek. He turned his face, quickly pulling her into a disorienting kiss that made Betty breathe hard through her nose, getting caught up and tossed around in his masculine smell all over again. She wondered if he always smelled like this or if it was some sort of evolutionary hormonal thing designed to lure her in and let him do what he liked with and to her. Betty was winding her foot around his calf, nudging her crotch against the hardened dick testing the stretchiness of the front of Jughead’s jeans, when she recalled she’d actually had sort of a plan. She turned her face away abruptly, but Jughead, undeterred, just switched to kissing down her neck instead. When he reached the base of her throat, she started wishing she hadn’t worn a crewneck sweater… but hopefully it wouldn’t be on much longer anyway.

“Tops!” Betty insisted, swatting lightly at his shoulder. Jughead groaned in pretend frustration against her skin and sat back, peeling his shirt over his head and flinging it away in one seamless motion that seemed to Betty like a prime example of her boyfriend’s casual sexiness. Her next thought was that maybe starting at the top might not have been the least intimidating route after all; Jughead’s leanly muscled torso was beautiful―smooth and flawless like he’d been folded in half vertically and cut out to leave a perfect symmetry of hotness. She hoped that the way he’d apparently been aligning himself with the Serpents didn’t lead to any fights that marred this unblemished canvas. She felt extraordinarily possessive of Jughead, seeing him like this.

“You,” he said expectantly, already running his eyes over her still-clothed chest and shoulders.

Betty was fairly certain she couldn’t remove her top as gracefully as Jughead had just done his, since she was lying flat on her back, but luckily, he didn’t seem too interested in waiting as she struggled through it. His palms smoothed up her ribcage, taking the sweater with them, and all Betty had to do was lift her shoulders, raise her head, and stretch out her arms, while Jughead got her down to her bra. She made up for a less accessible sweater choice with her undergarments and was thoroughly gratified by the way Jughead’s gaze landed on the translucent lace of the cups of her bra and lingered… until he broke his own trance and felt behind her to pinch the clasp open and drag the whole thing off of her.

He leaned down to her, bringing their bared chests together and Betty thought it was incredible, wrapping her arms around him to touch the curve of his ribs, the sharp jut of his shoulder blades. Feeling her nipples rub across his skin was taking her to a higher altitude of arousal and Betty moaned without thinking about the sound before it left her lips. Daringly, she shot her hand down in the opposite direction, gliding her palm over his ass.

“Well if below the waist is fair game now…” he murmured, the ends of his hair sweeping across her forehead as he closed in and kissed her.

Jughead found the zipper of her skirt and undid it. Betty eagerly raised her hips, making Jughead gasp and grind against her. In apparent retaliation, he tugged her skirt down and took her panties with it. The top half of her body had been one thing―territory he’d seen bits and pieces of when she wore tank tops or anything with a deeper V neckline―but this was something very different. Unlike after Jughead had removed her sweater and bra, Betty couldn’t just cuddle against him, enjoying her nudity while also hiding it. Now, she had to stay calm as her boyfriend backed up enough to get the layers down her legs and off, with the entire length of her body exposed the whole time. The positive side was that she wasn’t cold; even without the abundant heat Jughead was radiating when in contact with her, Betty’s body was keeping the temperature nice and high. Terrarium-high. If she’d been a lizard, she would’ve been very happy. Of course, having Jughead in her bedroom at night was more than enough to make her glad to be human.

His eyes didn’t skip over anything, but Betty discovered it was actually easier to be this open―literally, with him still kneeling between her parted thighs―when he made his appreciation of her so obvious. Jughead’s fingers went to the fastening of his jeans and she noticed his hands were trembling. Her stare flew back up to his face, which was watching her intently.

“Should I―should I not?” he stumbled out, his fingers stilling (as much as they could through the shaking) after popping his button free.

“No,” Betty said, smiling, then realized it sounded wrong. “I mean yes! Yes, take them off.”

Now she sounded _too_ eager and, to her relief, they both burst out laughing. Jughead reached down for her hand, holding it tenderly and seeming to get as much satisfaction from that touch as from any other.

“Help me. Ok?”

Betty nodded and let him move out from between her legs so that she could get herself up to kneeling as well. Jughead pressed his palm to her cheek and Betty could tell he wasn’t trembling anymore. He swept her hair back from her face once, twice, then tangled his fingers in it, cupping the back of her neck while Betty’s own fingers felt out his zipper and lowered it. The skin of his abdomen against the back of her hand was warm, but even through his boxers, Betty could tell that, lower down, it was even hotter. Struggling to keep her eyes on his face when she mostly wanted to turn away in embarrassment, Betty put her hand on him, feeling his length through the cotton. Jughead sucked in a breath she thought would never end, then nodded to her. She wasn’t sure whether that meant to do it again or to continue with the process of divesting him, but Betty went with the latter, moving her hands to his hips and borrowing Jughead’s little trick of taking both layers down at once. Betty leaned her forehead against Jughead’s shoulder, trying to be inconspicuous about glancing down and checking out his size, but when she flicked her eyes back up, he was failing to contain a smug smirk.

Apparently emboldened rather than embarrassed, Jughead shaped his hands to Betty’s hips and slid them up the curve of her waist and inward to her chest, where he confidently cupped her breasts. Betty breathed unsteadily, Jughead’s hands rising and falling with her body as she searched frantically for the usually natural rhythm of her lungs. Suddenly, one of his hands dropped away, his fingers letting her know they still existed by diving forward and sliding through the wetness between her legs. Apparently, Betty’s resting heartrate was something she wouldn’t be discerning again for a while.

Winding their arms around each other and bringing their mouths together earnestly, Betty and Jughead progressed from kneeling apart from each other to sitting, legs partially entangled, to shuffling further back onto the bed, until they ended up with Jughead sitting, legs straight out and back against the wall, with Betty again in his lap. She was feeling good about this, like she was back on home turf―after all, she’d imagined climbing on top of Jughead in her bed before, though the real thing was so much more, in every way, than she’d fantasized. For one thing, there were his fingers, back between her legs, spreading her wetness over her clit in a way that made her feel lightly electrocuted, if there were such a thing. For another, there was the solid presence of his erect cock standing stiff and flushed between them. Jughead let his fingers slide back to her entrance and after a few moments, pushed one inside.

Betty felt awkward and alarmed for a second, then he crooked his finger and she let out an unearthly moan, digging her fingernails into the flesh of his shoulders. She felt his dick pulse against her abdomen as she unconscious shifted closer to him, wordlessly begging as she levelled him with a lustful stare. Jughead curled his finger into her again and Betty’s eyes closed in pleasure. She tilted her hips to press her wetted clit against his shaft and stroked downwards, making every nerve in her body seem to tingle and ending in the weightier bliss of Jughead’s fingers―two now―plunging into her. She started moving eagerly but uncoordinatedly and Jughead grabbed her hip, maybe a little rougher than he would’ve if most of his mind hadn’t been focused on the way she was rubbing herself off against his cock.

“Still… miss the… socks?” she panted, her lips parting in a sloppy smile as her body was flooded with heat coming straight from her core.

“Fuck those socks,” Jughead grunted, his eyebrows drawn together in severe concentration.

Betty grabbed his chin and kissed him hard, muffling his groan with her tongue. She raised herself on her knees and let his hands take over, aligning the head of his erection with her opening. Squeezing her eyes shut from the discomfort, Betty had to stop kissing him, but Jughead continued to plant kisses all over her face, whispering into her ear a mix of tender affirmations and blatantly erotic thoughts about the way she felt around his dick. Somehow, it helped and Betty relaxed her unwittingly clenched thighs and sunk down onto him. Jughead positively convulsed against her, tightening his arm around her waist and swearing. She hadn’t meant to test his endurance; Betty honestly hadn’t realized how much of him was left to push into her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

Jughead exhaled and shook his head, eyes burning with hunger.

“I… it’s…”

It seemed he either couldn’t think of how to complete that sentence or he just couldn’t get it out, but he hauled her chest against his and jerked his hips sharply upwards. It was too much for Betty: harsh, sore, overwhelming… and then, like swallowing and then experiencing the aftertaste… good, very good, very, _very_ good. She rotated her hips delicately, but there was no way to get a feel for the size of him inside of her. He was just _big_ and _there_. Betty decided to fight fire with fire, lifting herself and sliding back down on him swiftly. What shocked her as much as the burst of inexplicable feeling was the overwhelmed tear that escaped the corner of her eye; evidently, her emotions were as surprised as her body was.

Jughead’s hands crawled up her stomach, fingers spreading like vines until he reached her chest and took her nipples securely between his fingertips. As Betty rocked, shuddering when her clit rubbed the lowest region of his abdomen, Jughead twisted, tugged, and flicked at her nipples. He nuzzled his face into her neck, licking deftly up to the underside of her jaw, then pressing the side of his face to hers. She increased her pace, though her calves felt on the verge of permanently cramping and her skin felt tacky everywhere it met and separated from Jughead’s. He smoothed both hands down to and around her hips and gripped her ass, bucking up into her. It didn’t matter that his rhythm was sometimes at odds with hers. The whole thing was sweaty and uncontrolled and she couldn’t have loved it more.

“I love you,” she burst out, moaning as Jughead gave her a hard thrust.

“You too,” he muttered. “God, so much.”

Betty’s pleasure seemed to be bunching up, cramming against an invisible ceiling, and she wrapped her arms around Jughead’s neck, clinging to him. She knew they had chemistry, but this was ridiculous. Surely, it couldn’t be this good for everyone. Why the hell had they waited? Betty wanted this, constantly, forever, and more. Right now. Amazing her, Jughead leaned forward, getting his feet under him for leverage to bring her down onto her back. He didn’t even bother straightening his legs, raised slightly on his knees as he continued almost without pause, ramming into her with all determination while Betty cried out, one leg hooked around his hips and the other stretched so that her foot was pressed flat to the wall. She came as her back and neck arched, opening up the length of her throat for Jughead to bite at while he released, actually shifting her further down the bed when he sank into her rapidly, over and over. In her bliss, Betty felt like she and Jughead might have merged into one person because it was so hard to imagine them as separate with him throbbing inside of her.

Eventually, tense in some areas and absolutely Jell-O in others, they rolled apart. Betty grabbed Jughead’s hand and smacked his palm down over her heart. She thought it was obvious that she was trying to demonstrate how hard it was beating, but she looked over at him and saw his eyes lighting up mischievously, realizing all he was getting out of it in that moment was that his hand was back on her breast. She rolled her eyes and he moved his hand down to her waist, pulling her onto her side so she was facing him. Betty did him one better and pressed her nose right to his chest. He smelled like a darker, naughtier version of Jughead now and she was very into it.

“Do you know where the papers went?” he asked, not sounding very serious.

“Juggy, I don’t even know if all of my limbs are still attached,” she answered languorously.

“Well _that’s_ a problem Nancy Drew certainly never had.”

“I guess she didn’t get out enough.”

“You realize you’re saying that from your bedroom.”

Betty felt his nose bump the top of her head and she drew her face back to smile at him.

“So what’s your point?”

“I forget.”

She snickered.

“This wasn’t really part of the plan for tonight, was it?”

“I don’t know about that.” Jughead frowned, considering. “This was supposed to be a sleuthing date and we definitely uncovered some things.” He raised one eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting as well. “And if nothing else, our brains should be nice and fresh now, cleared of all the bad ideas we were stuck on before.”

“Your last idea was getting me to dress like Nancy Drew.”

“Obviously that one’s excluded, because it worked out excellently,” he explained. Betty sighed, smiling at him.

“We should probably get dressed,” she said after a minute.

“You want me to come back later?”

Betty’s eyebrows shot up.

“When my parents are home?”

“After they’re sleeping,” he clarified.

“Are you crazy?”

“What? You might need me to protect you again.”

Betty bit her lip, but it couldn’t contain her smile.

“Maybe more than once,” she agreed.

“Finally we’re on the same page!” Jughead exclaimed, holding the back of her neck as he kissed her soundly.

“Then I think we made some progress tonight after all,” Betty answered, pulling him close to her for a few minutes more.


End file.
